


All The Things You Are

by bossbeth



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Butch Kara Danvers, Cowboy Kara Danvers, Divorce Ranch AU, F/F, Lena and Kara figure out what they want, Strangers to Lovers, in the fifties, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 00:31:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17131625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossbeth/pseuds/bossbeth
Summary: “It’s a simple enough procedure. We set you up with a place to rest your head for six weeks, just long enough to establish residency. Your host will serve as your witness to the court, certifying as much. And once you’re a resident of the state of Nevada, you become subject to all its lovely rights - including access to a neat and tidy divorce.”Lena Spheer is done being a wife and daughter - even as she has no idea what her life is beyond those things.Kara Danvers is a pretty good cowboy and a terrible contractor.Neither of them expected to find each other - or all the ways knowing each other could help them find themselves.





	All The Things You Are

Two hours after she received the patent sale notice, Mrs. Lena Spheer had her cab idle outside of the car dealership. She had worn her morning’s purchases from Macy’s out - the course, unlined material of her jacket unfamiliar, catching at the hairs on her forearms - but there were still some lingering details to address before she disembarked.

She unraveled the fox fur from her throat, setting it in her bag. Next came the earrings - pearls replaced with simple hoops, matching necklace gone as well. She stared at her wedding ring for a long moment before she tugged it off her finger, rubbing the band of pale skin it left in its wake.

She stared just long enough that the driver asked her, “Ma’am?”

Lena looked up, and fixed a smile on her face as she wrapped a plaid scarf around her neck. “Apologies. Give me half an hour?”

He nodded at her reflection in the rearview mirror, and she exited the car, slipping her wedding ring in her pocket.

\--:--

The four-door Studebaker sedan was a lovely baby blue. Lena wanted very badly to feel its sunny disposition. But more than that, she liked its generous mileage, and the fact that she had taken apart a similar engine countless times before. She had a long drive ahead of her, and wanted to know she could handle whatever tricks it managed along the way.

“I’ll take it,” she said finally, stroking the hood. “Can you hold it for me for a few hours, and I’ll return with payment?”

The salesman grinned at her. “Of course. Do you think your husband will approve?”

Lena felt her jaw flex as she smiled in response.

\--:--

The gentleman at the pawn shop had a terrible poker face. “Oh, this is interesting,” he said, faintly sweating as he eyed her engagement ring with a jeweler’s loop.

Lena was prepared. She tugged a document out of her clasp. “It was last appraised for sixty-five thousand.” She pressed the paper across the desk for his inspection as the loop trembled faintly in his hand. “Lucky for you, I’ll take thirty - if you can give me six in cash now, and the rest in a cashier’s check.”

He laughed uncomfortably, sobering at the expression on Lena’s face. “That can be arranged, ma’am.”

“Marvelous,” she said. “Are you married, Mr...” She glanced up at the hand-painted sign behind the desk. “Sullivan?”

“Yes,” he responded, utterly unsettled by this conversation.

“Here.” She tugged the fur wrap from her bag. “A gift for your wife.”

“Um. Thank you?” He took the fur, and stared at her. “Are you all right, miss?”

This smile was genuine. “Better by the moment.”

\--:--

She paid for the car in cash, tipped her patient cab driver generously (“Does your wife like pearls?”), and kept the rest of the hundreds tucked into her bra on one side, cashier’s check in the other. She smiled as she saw the .38 shift in her clutch as she stowed her keys away.

She stopped at a few stores to pick up her most urgent supplies - an assortment of groceries, a small wooden crate of her favorite bourbon, and three boxes of her brand of cigarettes.

Lena stopped at the drive through on her way to the coast. Somehow, this act, moreso than the car or the ring, felt the most decadent. She could imagine Jack teasing her for even daring to order a cheeseburger. She could hear Lillian tsk as she confirmed a milkshake with extra whip cream.

“Thank you,” she said to the server, handing them a twenty. They skated away, looking equal parts delighted and confused.

She made it to the beach a little after lunchtime, kicking off her heels into the passenger seat, stopping at the trunk to grab a bottle of bourbon, enjoying the feel of sand between her toes as she wandered down to the edge of the waves.

She plunked down, sand gathering at her skirt, legs splayed before her in a manner most unladylike. The burger had gone a little cold, cheese congealing just a bit, bun fully soggy.

It was delicious.

“Fuck you,” she said brightly to no one in particular, and to everyone in specific, as she took a swig of bourbon directly from the bottle.

\--:--

She took the long way back, avoiding the freeway and taking winding surface streets, a half-forgotten map of the city plotting her course in her mind. She hadn’t driven herself in years, and enjoyed every moment of it, flexing her hands against the wheel for the sheer pleasure of feeling the leather under her grip.

She had forgotten just how much she loved the palm trees of National City. They had torn all the trees out of the estate, of course - palms were crass, and didn’t provide much protection from prying eyes. But there they were everywhere beyond those high gates, an incongruous and orderly line of them down the curb of every street.

She loved them, and wouldn’t miss them, even a little.

\--:--

The very last mailbox before the highway was in front of the new library on the edge of the suburbs. She had never been inside, but the exterior was fine and ridiculous - Grecian columns, pediment clad with a bold relief, curling cornices flourishing wherever one could be shoved. It felt like a perfect witness to this act. It reeked of new money, an earnest and absolute affront to taste - a caricature of what someone who didn't know any better thought classical architecture looked like.

She stared up at the riot of acanthus leaves, smiled, and dropped two letters in the mailbox - one addressed to her husband, and one addressed to her mother - and left National City forever.

\--:--

All told, she figured the drive would take a little over eleven hours. Her choice had been just abrupt enough that she hadn’t time to do it in a day. After watching the brush fly past her window for hours until the sun began to set, she relented, pulling into the first motel that came up on the highway.

It was a series of cabins made to look like teepees, a jumble of color and crumbling plaster. She walked to her cabin - the second to last - wondering what native peoples once lived on this land. What their lives were like before they were displaced. Where they had wound up going, once their way of life had been taken from them. It felt both immediate and distant, and made her feel equal parts powerless and culpable.

She stopped at her car to grab her little bag of groceries. Once inside the room, she shed her new clothes, and sat on the bed, eating a ham and cheese sandwich fully in the nude.

“I am a person who eats a ham and cheese sandwich in the nude,” she said to herself in the mirror over the dresser, and glared at her own reflection, daring it to judge her. A tired face with empty eyes stared back at her. Eventually, she rolled away, reached for the bottle and the light switch, and drank in the dark until the bourbon was gone, and consciousness left her.

\--:--

Reno was exactly what she thought, and nothing like she imagined. It was large, particularly in comparison to the sleepy little nothing towns she had driven through on her way north. The streets were a blast of visual noise, blinking neon begging her to step through every door she passed.

When she stopped at the gas station to fill her tank and ask for directions, the attendant sent her without hesitation to Cat’s Cantina. “Ask for Cat. And tell her I sent you, ok?”

Being directed to a cantina for help seemed bizarre. Surely there should be an agency or something? Just how little planning she had put into this began to tug at her with a faint nausea. Smothering her anxiety, Lena thanked the clerk, and made her way to the far end of the main drag.

The building itself looked a little worse for wear on the outside, its indistinct Mexican motif battered by wind and sun - but the inside was clean and sleek, filled with gleaming chrome and bright linoleum. The extreme contrast did little to ease her discomfort. There were a few solitary men scattered throughout the booths, nursing drinks and staring at nothing in particular, not so much as glancing up as Lena pushed her way through the door and maneuvered to the bar.

The woman slicing limes behind the counter was on the shorter side, and overall slight in build, but cut an imposing figure nevertheless. Her makeup was perfect, her hair impeccable, her clothes tailored and pressed, and the eyes that regarded Lena’s approach were sharp. “What can I get you, sweetheart?” the woman asked, her voice conveying a condescending friendliness entirely absent from her blank face.

Lena sat at the bar, setting her purse on the countertop in front of her. “A rum and coke, for starters.” That would take care of her nerves. “And if you could direct me to Cat, I would appreciate it.”

The woman nodded, busying herself with making the drink, and when she set it on the counter in front on Lena, she said, flourishing to the drink and then herself, “One rum and coke, and one Cat Grant. What can I do for you?”

Lena had thoroughly burned her bridges and driven a few hundred miles in this pursuit, but it was strange to find herself at the point of saying the words out loud. She took a deep pull of her drink to brace herself, and made a small sound as the strength of it hit her tongue. “I’m here to take the cure, and I was told you can help me with accommodations.”

Cat’s entire demeanor changed. She braced her arms on the bar, set wide apart in a movement both authoritative and inclusive. “Ah, yes, you are in luck - this is my area of expertise. I am at your service. May I ask who sent you my way?”

Lena thought for a moment. “A gentleman at the gas station on Third. Rocky, I think his name was?”

“Rocky.” Cat repeated his name with a distant smile, staring up at the ceiling. “What a good boy.” She leveled her head back at Lena, and her words came out in a rapid rattle. “It’s a simple enough procedure. We set you up with a place to rest your head for six weeks, just long enough to establish residency. Your host will serve as your witness to the court, certifying as much. And once you’re a resident of the state of Nevada, you become subject to all its lovely rights - including access to a neat and tidy divorce.”

Lena nodded. This is what she came for, after all. It may be a terrifying enterprise to Lena, but Cat's matter of fact tone made it sound so unexceptional. This was okay. This was normal. She took a deep drink, and found herself already down to mostly ice.

Cat’s smile was constant, and refused to reach her eyes. “Now, you’re in luck, because I know there’s a vacancy at the Flying E Ranch. I can make a phone call and get you in. They’re no stranger to the rich and famous, and they are as discreet as their cowboys are nubile.”

Lena willed her throat not to flush. “Actually, I think the Flying E is a little out of my price range.”

Cat cocked an eyebrow. “Darling, you don’t have to pretend. I’m not some shyster here to swindle you. It’s just us girls. No need for the princess to play pauper.”

Lena swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cat laughed, reaching for Lena’s glass to pour her another drink. “I don’t know who told you it was necessary to swan about in dimestore rags, but you forget to downgrade your heels.” Cat leaned forward and took a dramatic sniff, eyes glittering with mischief. “I can’t help but notice you enjoy Chanel No. 5. And well, frankly, I wonder how many skilled hands it takes to keep your hair that very becoming shade of brown?”

Lena began to feel that Rocky at the gas station had led her astray. But she had come too far to be treated like this. Anger coursed through her. “Let me be perfectly clear about what I want, since you seem so prone to assumption.” Her words were crisp and enunciated. “I’m not interested in rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. I want to be as remote as I can be while still having access to a flushing toilet. I want to be as alone as possible, without a single bachelor in the vicinity, nubile or otherwise. And whatever you may think of me - I _am_ on a budget. Can you help me with that?”

Cat leaned back, eying Lena as if reappraising her. “Of course I can. For fifty dollars.”

Lena laughed into her glass humorlessly. “You were about to send me to the Flying E for free. Did you suddenly remember the good heels and Chanel tax?”

“No,” said Cat simply. “I know exactly where to send you. But it’s outside of the system.”

Lena frowned, confused.

Cat gestured vaguely around them. “You see, there’s an order to things around here. Darling Rocky at the gas station sends you to me, so I give him five dollars for his trouble. I send you to the Flying E, or the Triple R, or the Hamilton Hotel - and after your six weeks are up, I get a seventy-five dollar cut for sending you their way. And if you should happen to use the services of a lawyer I recommend, and see my favorite bailiff, and we all make our mutual appreciation known, all the better.” Cat shrugged, and one brow went up again. “I have exactly the place for you, my dear - but they don’t play the game. This place thinks that you should just be able to hang a shingle without paying any of the traditional fees. So you get to make it worth my while, all on your lonesome.”

A tension settled in Lena’s gut, turning the taste of the soda in her drink sickeningly sweet. What a racket, head to toe. This woman's approval be damned - she was immediately compelled by the idea of doing business with someone who opted out altogether.

Without breaking eye contact, Lena reached into her bra and pulled out a fifty dollar bill, still warm from her body. She held it between them, pinched between pointer and middle finger. “There’s your commission.”

Cat reached forward and plucked the cash free, smiling once more, mock genuine from eyes to mouth. “One moment, ah - what was your name again, sweetheart?”

Lena's throat flexed as she swallowed. “Lena.” May as well get used to her new name. Well, her old name. “Luthor.”

Cat nodded. “One moment, Lena Luthor.”

Lena didn't know what felt more odd - saying the name she had left behind, or hearing it repeated back.

Cat held up a finger, indicating Lena wait, and walked to a phone attached to the wall at the far end of the bar.

Lena nursed her drink as Cat spun a series of numbers into the dial. What happened next seems to be a heated conversation - Cat rolled her eyes a few times - but in the end, Cat returned to slap a map between them, procured a pen from nowhere, and started drawing a route.

“That settles that. It couldn’t be less like the Flying E, as per request. It’s technically not even a ranch house yet.” Cat's tone was cool and lightly damning in a manner Lena found all too familiar. “Eliza has ambitions, but for the moment, they consist of a concrete slab and a stack of lumber getting dusty in her barn. But her older daughter just moved to the city, so lucky for you, she has a spare room. And with you staying, she gets to really play at hostess, see if she’s up to the task.”

“Thank you,” said Lena, grateful despite the agitation.

Cat nodded. “It’s what I do, darling. I’m a very particular type of matchmaker.”

She made her way from behind the bar to check her other patrons, leaving Lena to study the map as she finished her drink. The marks meandered well outside Reno to a scratched out X neatly labeled DANVERS RANCH.

She stared at those two words as she drained the last of her drink.

Eventually, Lena made to leave, but couldn’t help but turn and regard Cat one last time. “What would have happened if I didn’t have $50?”

Cat took Lena’s empty glass and dumped its ice into the sink. “Fortunately we didn’t have to cross that bridge, did we, Chanel?”

\--:--

Lena rarely felt so comfortable as when behind the wheel of a car. She loved operating a machine, and knowing intimately how the mechanisms behind it all worked, that she could take it apart and put it together again. She had only stopped driving when her mother pressured her out of it - there was no need, after all; parking in the city was a mess; and most importantly, they had people for these things. It had been a relentless campaign - amongst so many others - and like always, she inevitably conceded. Appearances, Lena; what will people think?

The Danvers Ranch didn't seem to put much stock in appearances - or in paving its stretch of winding road. She gripped the wheel as her vehicle jarred at every dip and bump. She wondered if this would be her opportunity to replace a car’s suspension as she slowed down for better control.

What she found at the end of the road was not much to speak of - a worn but well-cared-for two-story house painted a dusty yellow, a barn, a few nondescript outbuildings, and, tucked just behind the house, the concrete slab Cat Grant had spoken of. Her primary takeaway was that it was a plain but pretty grouping of structures surrounded by dirt and scrub. So much of her home back in National City was designed to impress, to intimidate, to radiate an oppressive sense of power. The Danvers Ranch was humble, and sweet, and so unremarkable that a tension she didn’t even know she was carrying drained from her shoulders.

She parked her car under a tree a short distance from the house and sat there, breathing through her nose. This wasn’t scary. She could do this. She was in the midst of doing it.

Once her body had forgotten the memory of rattling down the road, she made her way up the path towards the covered porch. There was a one-eyed orange tabby glaring at her from the roof. _Hello to you too_ , she thought as she paused to squint up at it.

Her attention was drawn by the sound of a horse’s whinny. Walking a little towards the noise, she saw that there was a pen just beyond the barn, and within the pen a wild looking horse and a young man trying to soothe it. His overalls were tucked into his boots, his too-big shirt was rolled up to the elbows, and a hat was pressed upon his head. His hands were outstretched, muffled “whoas” making their way to Lena from a great distance.

The horse gentled enough, and the man walked up to it, petting its nose. After a moment, he rubbed the horse’s neck; then after a moment more, he pet its flank; then he was at its side, and he was getting up on the horse, and he was soothing it all the while. It was a slow, delicate dance, and with an abrupt sense of self-awareness, Lena wondered just how long she had been watching it.

It was all going well, until it wasn’t. In a flash, the horse bucked, and the young man went tumbling. The horse started to kick, and Lena flinched, looking away; there was a loud, panicked whinny, and a thump... And a peal of broad laughter, high and genuine.

Lena allowed herself to look again - the horse had kicked the gate down, and had gone off across the field with a gallop. The young man sat with his arms splayed behind him, apparently no worse for wear, nothing lost but the hat... messy bun knocked to some disarray, long blonde strands tumbling around their face.

“I’m pretty sure that young man is a woman,” Lena said to the cat.

It didn’t respond.

\--:--

Lena had no real expectations of her lodgings beyond what she had laid out to Cat Grant - that it be remote and private - but she didn’t think to specify “even slightly ready to receive a guest.”

Eliza Danvers was a sweet but frazzled woman, distracted by how ill-prepared she was to greet a stranger. Every other word was an apology for the state of the house, or of herself, and Lena felt the need to cut her off before her speech devolved to nothing but sorries.

“Please, Mrs. Danvers, there’s no need to apologize. Ms. Grant explained to me that you’re not quite ready for guests yet, so I anticipated a degree of informality to my stay. Frankly, I was hoping for it.”

“You haven’t seen just how informal things are around here,” said Mrs. Danvers darkly. “And it’s Doctor Danvers, but I’d rather Eliza just the same.”

Doctor. Unexpected. Lena schooled her face to hide her surprise. “Eliza. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m -” She couldn’t help but stutter. “Luthor, Ms. Lena Luthor. And Lena is more than adequate.”

Eliza seemed to relax the smallest amount. “Well, Lena, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

To the left of the entryway was a sitting room, lined with a formidable number of books. Every surface that was not occupied by windows bore a shelf laden with them. “We have quite the library here, and you’re welcome to it. Mr. Danvers loved a western.”

Lena wandered into the space, losing herself quickly to the combination of the sweet smell of pipe smoke and the musky smell of old books. “He certainly did.” She eyed the rows thoughtfully, reaching out to run her finger down the spines as the subject matter abruptly shifted. “And... natural sciences?”

“Biology is my area of interest.” Eliza stood in the entry to the room, arms crossed. “That brings us to my next imposition - I teach classes at the university in town, Monday through Wednesday. I stay with my daughter, bless her, and teach during the day. That’s three days of the week I won’t be cooking for you.”

“If I can make use of your kitchen, I can manage to fend for myself just fine.”

Eliza frowned, clearly uncomfortable. “It doesn’t seem right, to have you paying to stay under my roof, and taking care of yourself. This wasn’t my intention - I’m just filling in for the semester, and our guest rooms aren’t even built yet; I can’t imagine why I let Cat talk me into this -”

“Eliza, we haven’t really gotten to know each other yet. But allow me to reassure you: whatever you think I want from this?” Lena felt her jaw tighten, then relax. “I don’t.”

Doctor Danvers regarded her for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll give you the rest of the tour.”

The kitchen was surprisingly large - clearly the true heart of the house - with a giant porcelain farm sink and a large old-fashioned table plopped in the middle, serving as both counter and seating. The last of the day’s light poured in from banks of windows, cafe curtains in baby blue drawn back to let every ray in. The cozy domesticity of it made Lena’s chest feel tight.

There was a bathroom with a claw foot tub and a gleaming pedestal sink, and stairs leading up to what Eliza dismissed with a wave as her bedroom and a small office. A winding hall of closets lead to two doors.

“I’m not one for rules,” said Eliza, pausing to open a closet and grab an empty box. “I believe we’re all adults, and I trust you to keep your business. I just ask that if you smoke, open a window, and don’t drink in the house.”

Lena was grateful the doctor wasn’t facing her. Those final words set a chill in her stomach, shame a sudden shock in her gut that slowly radiated out into her skin. “Of course,” she forced herself to say.

Eliza continued, oblivious to the impact of her words. “And I ask that if you have any, ah, _gentleman visitors_ , that they see themselves in and out the back door. Much more private that way.” She gestured to the exit at the end of the hall, lace curtains fluttering, unaware of what they masked. “And do be aware that my daughters always complained the wall between their rooms is on the thin side.”

Before Lena could ask a follow-up question, Eliza opened the door closest to the end of the hall and gestured. “This will be your room.”

Lena walked in and saw it for what it was: a young person’s space fitfully outgrown. There were signs of childhood - indistinct trophies, a jar of toy soldiers - banged up against burgeoning adulthood - shelves lined with thick textbooks and photos of smiling friends.

“Alex just moved out a few months ago,” explained Eliza, and Lena could hear the apology hovering around her words as she started boxing up the more clearly personal things. “Why she didn’t take all this with her, I’ll never know.”

Lena gripped her own arms as she looked over the simple room. “She wanted to start over, I imagine.”

Eliza hummed. “Kind of her to leave half her belongings for me as a momento.”

Anxiety kept coiling up Lena’s spine. She tried changing the subject, staring at more populated bookshelves. The Danvers certainly liked reading. “I didn’t know so many animal anatomy books even existed.”

All of Eliza’s bitterness melted away, replaced by absolute pride. “My daughter just graduated from veterinary school. Top of her class! She and her sister always were good with animals. They have a way with them, I swear, that their father never managed. He never met a horse that didn’t at least try to take a bite out of him.”

Lena laughed. “What does he do? Your husband?”

“Oh, he’s passed.” Eliza busied herself again, packing up the last of her daughter’s scattered odds and ends. “Four years ago, now.”

Lena felt she was doing all of this wrong. Her hand instinctively went to toy with the pearls at her neck, but they were gone. She touched her throat instead, the gesture still soothing. “I’m so sorry to hear that. And to bring up the past when you’re so kind to let me occupy your present.”

“I swear, I feel Jeremiah is still very much in my present as well. This place was his dream.” Her smile was still there, but the light had dimmed from her kind eyes ever so slightly. “We keep his dream alive, and we keep a part of him alive with it.”

Lena, having all too recently decided to give her own damn dreams a chance, tried to think of something polite to say, but was spared by the sudden barking of a dog from the front of the house, followed by a door opening with a bang.

Eliza rolled her eyes, weary affection apparent in the gesture. “That’ll be my other daughter.”

Lena followed the older woman back into the hallway. The not-cowboy from the paddock was laughing at a wildly barking mutt, blocking it out of the house by plopping down in the doorway to tug off her boots as it bounded back and forth on the porch. “I’ll feed you, I know, I know, give me a second - ” She hopped to her feet and was starting to undo the clasps of her dirty overalls as they approached.

“Kara?” Eliza cleared her throat. “We have a guest.”

“Oh!” Kara spun around and closed the door in one movement, delighted surprise evident all over her face. “I’ll keep my pants on, then!”

“Lord, Kara,” Eliza muttered to herself, heading out of the room with the box resting on her hip.

Up close, Kara Danvers was as much of a mishmash as she was from afar. The overalls were on the edge of need of patching at the knees, and the shirt she was wearing fit her broad shoulders but not much else. The rolled sleeves at her elbows were sloppy and uneven. She was still absolutely filthy from her tumble. The overall impression was that of a toddler wearing clothes far too big.

There was nothing toddler-like about the stranger’s face, however - sun and wind kissed, all freckles and tan. Kara took her hat off - a clear line left on her forehead marching into an indent in her hairline - and hung it on the hall tree by the door. She took thick-rimmed glasses hanging from a hook, and perched them on a nose that looked like it had been broken at least once. The glasses emphasized the way her sheepish grin reached her kind, expressive eyes.

Lena felt herself return that smile on instinct. “I didn’t know there was a dress code for dinner.”

Kara laughed, a snort escaping at the end of it. “Yeah, the strays around here are a real stickler for formality. Black tie or nothing.” She wiped her palms on the small amount of her clothing that wasn’t caked in dirt, and held out a hand. “Kara Danvers. Pleasure to meet you.”

Lena shook her hand, noticing the warm catch of long, rough fingers against her skin. This time she said her new-old name without hesitation. “Ms. Lena Luthor. Your mother is kind enough to let me stay with you both for a little while.”

Kara’s face scrunched into a sympathetic grimace. “About a six week stay?”

“About that, I imagine.” She crossed her arms. “That’s how long it takes for the Miss to stick, right?”

“Right.” Kara stared at Lena a little too long, then seemed to catch herself, scrubbing the back of her neck with her hand. A prickling awareness settled over Lena’s skin.

“Kara, how about you help Lena get settled?” Eliza said, reappearing only to walk down the hallway with a quilt in her arms.

“I should get your room ready -”

“I’ll just bring in my things -”

Kara and Lena’s words ran over each other, and they did a shuffle as Kara moved into the hallway and Lena reached for the door. As soon as it opened, the dog bolted inside, barking excitedly at Kara.

“Krypto! Buddy! Outside!” It was not a small dog, but Kara lifted it right off the ground without a moment’s hesitation, pointing her head in the other direction as it tried desperately to lick her face.

“Friend of yours, huh?” teased Lena, holding the door open.

The dog wagged its tail with such force that Kara’s arms wobbled as she carried him out to plop onto the yard. “Most of my friends are house trained, I promise.” She wagged a finger at the mutt, who bowed with a few bounces, ready to play. “Where’re your manners, Krypto?”

Lena made her way to the rear of her car, and Kara followed, seeming to have changed her mind on how to help, and apparently fine with walking over the rocky path in bare feet.

When Lena tried to grab her trunk, Kara held up her hand. “Let me.” And lifted it out by the straps, revealing the small crate of bourbon tucked behind it.

Kara paused, and Lena licked her lips.

“Don’t mean to be rude, Miss Luthor,” said Kara, her words deliberate, “but if you don’t mind, it’d mean the world if you didn’t drink here.”

Lena’s shame came racing back, creeping up her throat now, tactile and tight. “Eliza already said as much. I wouldn’t have brought any alcohol if I’d known it was a problem.”

Kara tutted, setting a hat box on top of the luggage before lifting them both. “Not a problem. Just a courtesy. And there was no way for you to know.” She settled her burden against her hip, casual with the weight. Whatever storm that had darkened that lively face had already passed. “Once we get this inside, would you like to help me feed the last of our four-legged friends before dinner?”

Lena slung her smaller bag over her shoulder and Kara closed the car politely. “I don’t mean to be unhelpful, but frankly, I’m tired, and I’d rather head straight to bed.”

Kara’s brow went up. “Did Eliza feed you already? I was planning on making pork chops tonight.”

“I’m not hungry,” said Lena honestly. The Danvers seemed like kind people, but she was so very tired of people. “It’s been a long drive, and I feel like could sleep for a week.”

“That was me a few days ago, right off the roundup.” They made their way together back to the porch. “I slept a solid thirty-two hours, and woke up a new human being altogether.”

Lena let Kara open the front door for her. Eliza was humming to herself in the kitchen, chopping something, and Kara lead them both down the hall, kicking Lena’s bedroom door open with her still bare foot.

The trunk went on the bed, and Kara winced when she realized she had left a smear of dirt right across the front of it where it had rested on her hip and stomach. “Sorry about that.”

Lena laughed. “A little dirt will do it good, I think.”

“Well, you’re in the right place for that.” Kara planted her hands on her hips, expression pained as she eyed blank spaces on the wall bearing dusty outlines of what once hung there. “It’s not much to look at, but we’ll cozy this place up tomorrow, I promise. For now - it’s a bed, and a locking door.”

“That’s genuinely all I’m looking for.” Lena sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, letting her fingers grip the quilt where it draped over the side.

“I’m up pretty early to see to things, and if you’re awake, well, I make the best damn eggs you’ve ever had, guaranteed.” Lena wondered if Kara was even aware that her eyes kept tracking her up and down. “If not - I’ll have leftover pork chops in the fridge, and they make the best damn sandwiches you’ve ever had, guaranteed.”

“Confident,” teased Lena.

Kara shrugged. “Life’s too short for bad pork chops.”

She picked at a loose thread on the bed cover. “Thank you, Kara.”

“Not a problem,” said Kara, eyes definitely flicking up from Lena’s legs.

“Tell your mother good night for me?” Lena asked pointedly.

Suddenly aware she was lingering, Kara blushed and shuffled out of the room backward. “Right. Uh, the bathroom’s just -”

“Across the hall. I got the tour.” Despite her physical and emotional exhaustion, the smile she gave the barefoot cowgirl was genuine. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kara Danvers.”

“Right.” Kara puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled, closing the door as she left. “Sleep tight, Miss Luthor.”

Lena stood to check that it closed - and to confirm that it did, in fact, have a key hanging from the knob - and promptly locked it, feeling the full weight of her exhaustion collapse on her with the click of the bolt. She went to the window and closed the curtains against the last light of day, and wandered to the bed, falling onto it fully dressed, not even bothering to move her luggage. She tucked her feet to the far side of her trunk, and promptly fell asleep on top of the quilt.

\--:--

Lena had no idea how long she slept, but when she woke, the room was nearly pitch black, lit only by moonlight peeking in at the edge of the window. She lifted herself off the bed and fumbled to where she half remembered a lamp had been, turning it on with a click.

From the other side of the wall, she heard the soft sound of a record player. A female vocalist murmured through the wallpaper, a lazy piano winding with her, and Lena felt keenly aware that Kara was awake on the other side.

Filled with nervous energy, Lena started to unload her luggage, tucking things away in the drawers of a stranger’s dresser, when she found the half-empty bottle of bourbon in her luggage.

She stared at it in her hand for a long moment.

Lena grabbed her flats from where she had tucked them below the dresser, and creeped out the back door, walking around the kitchen side of the house to her car. She opened the trunk, and placed the bottle in the crate with its friends - after taking three deep pulls over the length of time it took to smoke a cigarette.

She made it all the way back to the house unobserved - but froze in the hallway when Kara’s music suddenly stopped. She stood stock still, staring at the strip of light bleeding from under Kara’s door.

After a moment, the light went out.

Lena entered her own room, and locked the door behind her. She put on her pajamas, turned off the lamp, and felt her way back to the bed, lifting the quilt to make a space for herself.

“Well,” said Lena to the empty room, “Here I am.”

Here was an X scratched onto a map. The I am part felt more and more abstract. Her mother’s daughter wouldn’t disappear with no warning. Her husband’s wife didn’t drive through the desert. Who the hell was this woman, laying in a stranger’s bed, whiskey burning in her throat?

Kara Danvers said she woke up a new human being. Lena wondered who exactly would wake up in this bed.

She’d find out tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this fic for over a year now (OOF) and it feels so, so good to get it started. This one means a lot to me, and getting over the fear of writing it down has been difficult, so I appreciate every kudos and comment y'all have for me. Yeah, I'm askin' for 'em - I'm standing in my truth.
> 
> Fair warning - it's probably going to take me at least a month and a half to get another chapter out, so hit that subscribe button if you're so inclined. I kept it M because that's where I anticipate it going.
> 
> [Please come holler at me on tumblr - I'm bossbeth over there too.](https://bossbeth.tumblr.com/)


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